One Night
by murdercrowther
Summary: The crew of the Ark have decided that their superiors need to loosen up. So they give a special kind of high grade energon to the targets. This energon hits the systems instantly. What will the normally powerful Autobots do while under the influence of drink?


**ONE NIGHT**

**READ THIS: **_I would like to state that I don't write slash. Ever. In one of my Fanfictions – Objectives – it states in the first chapter that it was a slash piece. That is entirely incorrect. I was newer to the site then, and did not know these terms. If it seems like slash, trust me, it is not. I do write romances, but it is usually between a cannon character and my OC. I never have, and never will, write slash. Thank you. This Fanfic is not slash. If it seems like it, it is not. And in the words of Alathea2: Please keep your minds clear of the gutter._

* * *

Sideswipe fiddled with the energon dispenser. While this prank may be particularly dangerous for both him, and his comrades, the result was going to be so worth it. Bumblebee shifted uneasily beside him, while Sunstreaker and Jazz kept guard. They had hit several other dispensers in the last hour. This one was the officer's energon supply. The only Bots who regularly used it were Prowl and Red Alert, both who tended to avoid crowded areas.

Many others had been let in on this prank, and it would be initiated when the day shift got off, and the night shift started. In that brief period between changing places, the officers took a very short break to refuel. Sometimes. It was easier with Ratchet and Ironhide; they were regulars to actually refueling. Harder were the ones who barely left their posts at all.

This counted of Perceptor, Prowl and Red Alert. So, they had to include Inferno, and Wheeljack to simply supply the energon to those two. Jazz would bring Prowl his.

Sunstreaker huffed as his twin completed programming the machine, "This is a bad idea." He had been stressing that point ever since they had arrived, "We're gonna get caught."

"Yeah, well if we do, they're gonna have to throw the entire Ark in the brig, cause nearly everyone was involved in the planning." Sideswipe retorted, before un-sub-spacing a container filled with the concoction that he had Wheeljack invent. The inventor had been awfully eager, nearly ecstatic, to comply.

This was a very potent brew, more potent than any others that they had tried. It immediately hit your systems, before the drinker could even register it.

The group was careful to avoid the view of the cameras in the area, knowing that Red Alert was watching everything. They had set up a loop feed, but it wouldn't last much longer.

"Ok, got it. Now, we wait for the switch." The red twin informed them.

"Red Alert's in the monitor room, Perceptor's in his lab, and Prowl's in his office. Everything is in place." An unfamiliar voice informed them. Mirage came into view right next to Sunstreaker, and the mech jumped back, weapons drawn. When he saw it was just the spy, he sub-spaced the firearms and scowled.

"Don't do that!" He shout whispered. Mirage shrugged, and looked towards the third in command, who had saved his own skid plating by joining the group in this prank. Jazz was _very _laid back, which allowed for _very_ good opportunities when he decided to join forces with whatever the Terror Twins had planned. This opened many doors that were usually kept locked. Literally.

And if he hadn't been let in on this, he would have been just as affected as the rest of the high ranking mechs – minus Optimus, because if they did that, it would not… work.

Jazz nodded to the spy and then he gestured for them to move. The video feed wouldn't last to long, and they needed to be out before Red Alert noted their presence. That would raise suspicion.

Once round the corner and out of sight, they all released a vent of air that they had been cycling. Sideswipe grinned, and checked the time, "Only ten minutes until it starts. This is gonna be great."

"Remind me again what the plan was." Bumblebee requested. The red front liner rolled his optics.

"We went over this already! It's not hard to understand. The officers – or any mech who wasn't let in on this – is gonna drink the energon from the dispensers. But…" He trailed off, hoping that the spy would remember. It was a few moments before the yellow bot sighed.

"I was not paying attention at the time." He admitted. Sideswipe face palmed. Why did he get Bots who were – albeit – very good at sneaking around, and getting past things, but didn't listen to what he said?

In their defense though, if they listened to him to much, a lot of bad things would occur. Such as now.

"We've changed the energon for high grade." He reminded the smaller bot, in an exasperated tone, "But, as we all know, it takes more than one cube to be fully intoxicated. So, I've had Wheeljack create a more… potent form… that hits the systems instantly." When it comes to things like this, perfection was necessary. And he excelled at it.

Bumblebee considered that for a moment, "Oh… ok… um, but why are we doing this again?"

Now, the red twin was getting annoyed, "Because they never loosen up. Sure, Ironhide and Ratchet drink high grade, but half the command staff hardly touch the stuff. I've never even seen Red Alert go near it. In fact, I've never seen him near a normal energon cube. Same goes for Perceptor. He's always in his lab, studying all those… thingies," There was no other word for it, "And Ratchet is always throwing wrenches at us. Ironhide threatens us. Prowl throws us in the brig for nearly everything-"

"Except ya're the cause of nearly everythin' happenin'." Jazz added. The twins made to protest, but then just accepted it. They were the cause of everything. Still, revenge was tantalizing.

"…Ok… yes… but regardless of that fact, all of you want to see what they'll do while – as the humans say – drunk." He brought up a good point. It would be interesting to see their paranoid, angry, intelligent, scary, and stoic commanders totally lose it.

"Well, the cameras will record everythin'. This is gonna be great." Jazz enthused. The others nodded just as eagerly.

Inferno's voice came through their comm. links /: Alright, it's go time:/

/: Affirmative:/ Sideswipe replied, "Ok, Jazz you're up." The saboteur nodded at his cue and un-sub-spaced an energon cube. The red twin sent a similar message to Wheeljack, indicating it was time.

/: Got it:/ Answered the crazy inventor. He hadn't been included in one of the Twins pranks in a long time. It was good to be included.

Switch to Wheeljack.

After getting off the comm. with Sideswipe, the mech turned towards the cube that sat so innocently on the counter. It was surrounded by various tools and half baked inventions, yet looked so… tempting.

He shook his helm. Had to remain focused. He liked to test out all his inventions on either himself or volunteers. So it was mainly himself. But now, he had the opportunity to try it out on others. And see the effects.

Now he was unnerved. What of it didn't work? What if it harmed them? What if it did work but then they went and killed someone?

These dark thoughts circled in his processor until he eventually snapped out of it. No, that was not going to happen. He picked up the cube and held it into the light. Here it goes.

Like Jazz and Inferno, Wheeljack was friends with a higher ranking mech, and was the Bot who made sure that the other didn't eventually die due to exhaustion. He wasn't too great at that job though, seeing as his own mortality rate wasn't much to copy from.

Hurrying down the corridors at his usual pace – which was mainly running, so as to get away from the inevitable explosion that his latest contraption offered – he arrived at Perceptor's 'Sanctuary' relatively quickly. And without spilling the potent high grade. Thank Primus.

Sending an entry ping to the mech, Wheeljack waited for the door to open. They eventually did, because apparently, the scientist wanted to finish analyzing something before allowing anybot in.

He greeted the inventor quickly, then went back to the datapad he was typing out. Wheeljack had a quick glance around. Whatever Perceptor kept in those draws was a mystery that may want to remain a mystery.

"Hello Wheeljack. How are you?" The mech didn't even look up from his work. The inventor sighed. How the pit was he going to get Perceptor to drink this?

"Uh… I'm fine… but you haven't refueled in a while, so I brought you some energon." Might as well go for the direct approach.

The other Bot stalked across the room to another piece of equipment, all the while still making conversation with the inventor, "That is thoughtful of you, but I have already had my energon."

"You- wait, what?" That stopped him mid sentence, "You actually refueled?"

"Of course." It was said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but he still never looked up, "I'm not an idiot Wheeljack. I know that if I cannot function correctly, I will not be able to do research. Not to mention that Ratchet would have my helm. I am not Red Alert or Prowl, who seem to live on fumes and work." It was said so calmly, "But, again, thank you for the sentiment, but it wasn't necessary."

He walked across the room again, to a stack of datapads, and began sorting through them. Wheeljack blinked and then activated his comm. to Sideswipe.

/: He's already refueled!:/ Was the instant message that the red twin got. He sighed. This is what you got when you were in charge of a scheme. Having to explain everything to them.

/: Look, just improvise okay? Tell him you don't believe him. Make him crack. That's what we do to Prowl all the time:/

/: And that is what usually lands you in the brig:/ The inventor reminded him.

/: Yeah, but he's second in command. Perceptor is not. Just… follow Jazz's lead and pester them into breaking. Kind of. Make him get fed up of you enough to just drink the cube so you'll get out. It's the way that Red Alert and Prowl are even alive. By being pestered. And crashed:/ The front liner explained.

Wheeljack blinked /: You have this whole thing planned out, don't you? You literally follow our lives. You know nearly everything about everybot here:/

/: It's my job to know. Now come on. Inferno just handed over his cube. We're just waiting for Red to drink it. And Prowl locked the door to his office, so Jazz is trying to hack it. So get a move on!:/

The mech paused /: What about Ratchet and Ironhide?:/ The other two targets on their hit list.

/: In the rec room. Haven't touched the cubes yet. Probably won't for a while:/

/: Understood. I'll see what I can do:/ He cut off the comm. and turned his attention to the other Bot in the room. Ok, pester, pester.

"Like I'm about to believe that. I know you haven't refueled. You give away tell tale signs." He was taking a gander at this.

Perceptor stiffened in disbelief. "What are you talking about? You can scan my systems and confirm that I have refueled."

The inventor hesitated before coming up with an excuse. "You're a genius. You could have simply created a device to hide it." It was very hard for him to say that. While he and Perceptor were friends, they still had some rivalry in that of the processing ability. Now, Wheeljack had just stated that the other was a genius. This should go well. As per the law of the universe, every being is gullible and proud towards this.

The mech actually looked up now. "Well… thank you… I'm surprised you would admit that… and by the way, I haven't accomplished such a thing." A silent 'Yet' was added afterwards.

"Yeah, sure you haven't." The Bot played something he had picked up from Sideswipe. And Jazz. And Sunstreaker. And Mirage. And nearly every other Bot who wasn't cold, illogical, or his leader. Sarcasm.

Perceptor obviously noticed that, and hid a scowl. He had work to do. He didn't need any more distractions. The researcher made his thoughts clear. "'Jack, I need to complete some very important tests on these earth specimens." He gestured to a large bottle holding at least three dozen caterpillars, all ranging from different sizes to colours, "And it is very hard to do that with you pestering me."

Wheeljack frowned. This was getting him nowhere. Then an idea struck him. "I'll leave… when you drink this."

Perceptor released a weary vent. The things he had to do these days. "I do not need that, I have already refueled."

"And I don't believe you. Just drink it, and I'll get out of your way. Wouldn't want you falling into stasis on the job anyway." The Bot knew just where to steer the conversation with the mech before him. Work. Like Prowl and Red Alert, it was literally an addiction. Just not as bad as theirs.

Eventually though, he gave in, wanting to return to his… experiment. Holding out his servo reluctantly, Wheeljack gave him the cube. Turning away from the inventor, he gulped down the cube extremely fast, wanting to get this over with already. Barely half a second later, did he drop the empty cube and turn to the other Bot in the room, optics way brighter than usual. Normal signs with being… over energized.

"Uh… Perceptor?" Wheeljack asked cautiously. Then, it was like a switch had been thrown. The – now intoxicated – Bot ran out of the room, screaming a battle cry. It was like he was reliving a great fight. His arms swung wildly, like he was swinging a sword. Or an axe. Whatever works for you.

The inventor commed Sideswipe /: Perceptor's intoxicated. Mission a success:/

/: Excellent:/ There was an evil tone to his voice /: We are just waiting on Ratchet now. And Ironhide. And Red Alert:/

/: So… Prowl's taken it?:/

/: Wouldn't know. Jazz hasn't informed us yet:/

/: Ok… well I'm gonna head to the rec room. I wanna see this:/

. . .

Jazz sent an entrance ping to the SIC. It was not replied to. Either the mech wasn't in – which wasn't a factor, because the Bot hadn't left his sanctum for nearly three weeks – or he was in and was just opting to ignore the Saboteur.

So, sub-spacing the energon cube, Jazz did what he was good at. Hacking. Barely a few moments later did the door slide open, to reveal a very ticked off Tactician. His expression remained impassive of course, but the set of his door wings clearly gave it away.

"Hey Prowler." Jazz greeted, bringing back the energon cube. The other Autobot released a vent.

"Jazz, for the last time, my name is not Prowler it is _Prowl_." This point had been stressed so many times in the past, "And what do you want? I'm busy." He had evidently not had a good day.

"Ta bring ya energon." Was the simple answer. The SIC just stared at him.

"I do not need to refuel." He ground out. The master spy smirked at that lie.

"Yeah? When was tha last time?" The saboteur asked.

"Four weeks." Prowl replied without a second thought, then mentally cursed himself. Why did he have to go and admit it?

Momentarily, Jazz forgot about the prank, as actual concern took over for his friend. Not that the Tactician hadn't done this before, but it was just getting way to frequent.

"Prowl ya have ta refuel. Yer livin' on fumes here! It'll… uh… restrict yer ability to work-"

"Cybertronians can last a long time without refueling Jazz, both you and I know that. I am fine for another few days. Now are you only here for that, or are you coming to hand in late reports?" The Praxian stopped him, and brought up another point.

"Uh… no… but ya need ta refuel. Ya don't want me ta report ya to Ratchet… again. Just drink tha cube, and Ah won't bother ya." Taking a similar tactic Wheeljack used. Except he was an expert at this.

Prowl looked at him, his optics betraying disbelief. Why couldn't he just be left alone to do his work?

Then, dropping his datapad on the desk with a loud clang, he held out his servo. The sooner he was alone, the sooner he could complete his work. Which would then be replaced by more work. Then more work. It was a cycle that could never be broken.

Setting the cube down on his desk, he picked up the report again and chose to ignore his friend. Jazz just waited patiently- screw it, he was not patient. His pede kept tapping the floor in a very irritated manner and his arms were crossed over his chassis.

This went on for ten minutes, until eventually the SIC cracked, "What?" He demanded sharply.

"Aren't ya gonna drink that?" The saboteur asked. Prowl paused, regarding the energon.

"I will. Just not at the moment." Even if Jazz wasn't doing this for a prank, he knew that the Tactician wouldn't consume the fuel.

"Well, Ah aint leavin' till ya do. So drink up." It left no room for discussion. The Praxian wasn't going down so easily.

"I could simply order you to leave."

Jazz blinked. Prowl had never brought that up before in all the time that they had worked together. And the TIC knew that his friend had the power to do so. This just simply stated clearly that the Bot had not had a good day, "Oh, come on Prowler. Just do it and Ah'll leave ya alone."

The SIC growled at the nick name, but relented, not really wanting to get Jazz in trouble. The mech was only looking out for him. Due to the fact that he couldn't really look after himself.

"Fine." He spat out, still annoyed at the interruption. Picking up the cube, he took a quick sip, hoping that would alleviate Jazz's worry. There was something different about this brew though. Something he could not quite understand…

Then, just as suddenly, an unknown impulse took over and he downed the cube in one gulp. For one thing, it tasted better than the low grade energon that the Autobots were usually subjected to. But this was different, almost…

His processor eventually shut off as any comprehensible thought vanished, and it was like his CPU just flat out decided to give up making sense of things.

Jazz watched his friend as the mech suddenly drank down the whole cube. Very un-Prowl like.

Then the Tactician just stared straight ahead. His optics brightened dramatically. The saboteur waited, wanting to see what the normally stoic and emotionless Bot would do.

He was unimpressed – and slightly confused – when all the SIC did was get up and leave. He simply stalked out of the door, transformed, and sped down the hallways.

Jazz just stared for a moment before activating his communications line to Sideswipe /: Prowl drank tha high grade:/

There was only a moment of silence before the red twin – my mistake. Mastermind of this operation – replied /: Excellent. Results?:/

/: Uh… does drivin' away count as anythin'?:/

/: … Hmm… too soon for a conclusion. If you want a show, Ratchet is near to drinking his high grade:/ The front liner offered.

The saboteur thought that over. This would be entertaining to watch. It is not like Ratchet hadn't drank before, it's just that everyone else had been drunk at the time to, so nobody really remembered anything.

Seizing the opportunity, the TIC sent an affirmative. He knew he was a high ranking officer, and it wasn't really setting an example for the rest of the Ark, but…

He was one of those… easy going Bots. Leave rules and regulations to Prowl. Jazz was the balance in the tough times. He was the… you could say 'Fun' guy. Not in comparison to Sideswipe or Sunstreaker. Those guys knew how to make the higher ranking suffer, and get a good laugh out of the rest of the crew.

While simultaneously being attacked by flying wrenches, courtesy of Ratchet.

Jazz seriously hoped that the fiery CMO was not a violent drunk. Same goes for Ironhide.

. . .

Inferno sat in front of the monitors, optics lazily scanning over the screens for anything. There was… nothing. And his superior still hadn't touched his high grade. Oi.

Red Alert made every monitor session seem like a fight between life and death. The mech never looked away from the screens. Inferno knew that Cybertronians didn't need to blink, but you just couldn't help but _want _the security director to. He seemed so lifeless. Like a statue.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had tested that theory a while back. They had crept in. Red didn't even look up. Both were wearing spark dampeners, so as not to be detected. Then, they had brought paint with them. And, as was Sunstreaker's skill, they began to paint him.

They did not get far.

Red Alert had gone into full out attack mode. He had kept shouting that there were Decepticons in the base. He had sounded all the alarms. So of course, there was utter bedlam. When a group of Bots had come to assist him, they found the Security Director attacking their two infamous front liners. The twins were in the med bay for a week. Then, both were in the brig for a month. Prowl hadn't taken kindly to their… creativity.

And now, Inferno questioned why he had decided to go along with the Twins prank. He didn't normally get in on these things. But it had been so tempting, to just see his commanding officer under the influence of high grade. To loosen up for once. He wondered how the others were doing. They were probably having more luck than him. Red Alert hadn't moved once since he had come in. The Bot was now questioning if the other was even alive.

Hey, it was a probability. Minus the fact that he hadn't turned grey.

His attention was drawn to the screens as he saw Perceptor running in front of the cameras, shouting curses and… battle cries?

He wasn't the only one to see it. Red Alert's optic twitched. This was not normal. Inferno waited for the excuses and accusations to come.

"I knew it! The Decepticons finally took control of him! Or he was experimenting and something went wrong! We're all in danger! I'm closing off the Ark. This cannot spread further. If it could affect him, it could affect the humans. We need to seal off all the doors. The ones in his lab must be entirely sealed. Activation of a force field around them! No, that may not work; it may have already gotten out! We must seal off the whole Ark!" And the mech did just that. Inferno now understood how Red Alert ended up with this position. He never left anything out. That and paranoia.

"Red, don't you think that's a bit much? Maybe he just… uh… glitched." This was a testy topic around both the Security Director and the SIC. It didn't happen to… well… anybody else except them, unless it was something really big. It was basically a… problem that they had. Which the Twins took advantage of.

But the mech didn't appear to notice, as he was already spouting out other possible ideas, "… He's a danger to the rest of the base! We have to stop him! But then we'll come into contact with him, and then, we'll go mad! That cannot be allowed! We must inform everyone of this!"

"Calm down sir." Inferno intervened, "I am sure it is nothing. You don't need to go to these great lengths when I'm positive that there's a logical explanation. You don't need to seal off the Ark-"

"How do you know anything about it?! For all I know you could be infected! Wait, are you?" This Bot was mad.

"I'm not… infected. Look, I'll go see what's wrong. If I go mad, you can sound the alarm. Just unseal the ship."

"No. Not until I'm sure. The doors remain closed until everything checks out." Notice how the Security mech is mostly worried about the ships safety, yet he's sending his second in command without a single thought.

Inferno noticed this as well, but didn't bother to call him on it, "I'll go see what's happening." Saying so, he left the room. Of course the Bot knew what was going on. He was surprised at Perceptor's reaction to the high grade. Turns out the mech goes into battle mode with it.

Every reaction to high grade was different.

Now he wanted to see what Red Alert's was. But that wouldn't happen till the security director was sure that what had just happened was nothing.

Welcome long wait.

. . .

Ironhide had left the rec room with his cube before he had drunk it. Sunstreaker was assigned to watch him, while they waited for Ratchet to drink his. Why was it taking so long? Surely the medic would at least sip it? It was like he knew!

The CMO turned sharp optics onto them that said everything.

Slag.

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PLEASE REVIEW

_Huh? What do you think? There will most likely be another chapter, I just needed to get this one out because I haven't updated some of my other stories in a while, and the pressure is getting to me what with work and school etc._


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